Living up to Expectations
by xXxThe Phantom's RosexXx
Summary: Neither one of them fit in except with, well maybe, each other.
1. Chapter 1

Title: Living Up To Expectations

Summary: Neither one of them fit in except with, well maybe, each other.

**Chapter One**

Some stories start out with a bang or an eye-catching sentence that draws you in. "In the beginning, God created the earth…" begins the first captivating chapter of what is said to be the highest selling book in history. Openings like that one draws the reader in. It's the first shot of heroin that sends them on the roller coaster of addiction. It's what causes the reader to anxiously turn each page with arousing suspense. It's what causes a reader to want to read the story more than once. Maybe even more than twice if the opening is good enough. My story, however, does not start out with a bang for an opening. Instead it starts out with a sunny day in the middle of March a few years ago. It was my senior year and everything was going to go well. I could just tell. I had already been accepted into my top choice University and in a few short months I would be graduation from the purgatory I called Clinton High. So far the second semester had been going exceedingly well. I had made the Councilor's list with all As and was soaring right through. Heck, I even had made myself less of a social disgrace by joining the poetry club. Things couldn't have been going better. That is, until I met him.

He had gone to Clinton since Freshman year but we had never socialized. That was partly due to me being a walking social disorder. I don't like people much. In fact, I'd be just happy if I lived alone in the world with my notebook and pen. That would actually be a utopia for me but highly unlikely. So I just walked through life ignoring the heinous miscreants I called my peers. So it wasn't strange that we had never spoken. I think there was only a few people I actually shared conversations with a Clinton one being Parker, my older brother who was not quite what I'd call a cup of tea and a picnic and of course Hillary, my best friend and closest confidant. She was the only one that would tolerate my drabbling about school, life, and mediocrity. So of course, I had never actually talked to him. Sure, I had seen him in the halls but everyone did. He kind of…stood out, you know? Like a sore thumb. Like me.

The first time we actually talked was because I had dumped a pudding cup on his head but we'll get to that in a moment. The point is, our story is pretty drab in the starting so bare with it and I promise it'll get a bit more interesting. Just tolerate me for a bit about then and then we'll get to the juicy stuff like the pudding cup. But first, I must take you through the mediocre drab that was my usual day. Then I promise, we'll get to the pudding cup. Just hold on for a bit. And if you think he didn't deserve it, I'll just tell you now – he totally did!


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

Like I said, it was a sunny day in the middle of March. As I pulled up to the school in my beat up Mustang, I noticed that every solid structure on the school was covered in posters announcing the upcoming prom. I rolled my eyes. Prom was nothing more than a celebratory ritual amongst hormone-crazed teens that allowed them to dance to mundane pop music with no emotional feeling and then go to some motel with yellow carpeting and puke green bedding and have a ten minute heated love fest before returning home before curfew. Yeah, prom was definitely not my type of thing.

I found my designated parking spot, grabbed my backpack, and hopped out of the car, slamming the door as loudly as I could. Some looked over at me to see what the problem. Others shrugged it off as my usual morning ritual of showing my disdain for the purgatory they call an education facility. I sigh and flip my mess of curls over my shoulder before making my way through the sea of kids. I wished I could just go to my locker with no trouble. Of course, it could never be that easy could it?

"Hey! You!"

Oh no. I flipped my hair back down across my shoulder and tried to avoid eye contact. It was Ty Peters. Ty was the school hottie as he was christened by all the little squealing teenage girls. To me, Ty was a pig and nothing more. A pig with lots of hair gel.

"Go away!" I scoffed as he began to follow into step with me.

"Aw but Mia, I did my hair extra special for you today!" He said with searing sarcasm. I rolled my eyes and tried to telepathically make him disappear. It didn't work.

"You can put hair gel on a pig but it's still a pig," I smirked.

"Ha, funny," Ty ran a hand through his greasy hair and I tried not to puke, "Look, I wanted to talk to you about something."

Oh great. That was just great.

"No," I said without missing a beat.

"Look, sweet heart, I need a favor. One little favor."

"Drop dead," I answered as I walked off leaving Ty standing there dejected. Well, as dejected as someone who was stared at by every girl that walked past him. I rolled my eyes and made my way towards my locker. A prom poster was positioned right smack-dab in the middle. I let a growl escape my throat and ripped it down. I didn't need this. Not today. Besides, I already had my night for prom all picked out. I would reread one of my favorite books and enjoy a nice steaming cup of hot herbal tea. Yes, that would be pure bliss. I didn't need to worry with a dress and hair and makeup. I never worried about that sort of thing any way.

After twisting my combination into the locker, I yanked it open and began stuffing my backpack with various binders, notebooks, and text books. First period was a free period. Most students used it as a study hall. I used it to meet with the poetry club. Mr. Garner taught the poetry class. He was a real class act type. The kind of teacher that wears the button down shirt and tie and pants and loafers but then tries way too hard to talk like he's one of us. I think he's trying to vicariously relive his high school days. It's all really rather sad. He's a good teacher though to some extent and I enjoyed having him as a poetry teacher. After grabbing my things and shoving my backpack onto my shoulder, I navigated myself through the hundreds of students to my classroom.

The classroom wasn't what you'd call your average classroom. It was a mix of a computer lab, a library, and a classroom. There were computers lining one wall, book shelves lining the next wall and desks lined neatly in rows in the middle. In the front of the classroom was a podium and Mr. Garner's desk though I'd never seen him actually use it. The walls were adorned with various posters with Shakespearean quotes. Shakespeare was one of my favorites and I often found myself, during a boring lecture, reading the various quotes on the walls. It was entertaining; more so than Mr. Garner's lectures on the history of iambic pentameter. Of course, staring at paint dry on a wall could be more entertaining than most of his lectures.

When I walked into class, I took my usual seat in the third row and pulled out a spiral notebook and pen. Mr. Garner had a stack of papers in his hands and he was not at all pleased. I could tell they were our poems we were asked to write last class. Now, let me just tell you know, a lot of people are only in the poetry club because it counts as an English credit. Most of them think that it's a blow-off class and it sort of is in a way and that is why most of them could care less about their grades; it's a pass or fail class. I hoped I had done well on my poem. I know I had. Our poems had to be about something that happened to us in our lives that affected us and changed us as a person. I wrote about when my mom died a few years ago. I had put so much emotion into the poem I knew it would move Mr. Garner to at least pass me on it. It was a pass or fail class but that didn't stop him from color most papers red and I had my fingers crossed my paper would be as neat as it was when I turned it in.

After a few more students came in, Mr. Garner cleared his throat to begin his usual diatribe about how terrible our poems were. I sighed, crossed my arms over my chest, and waited.

"Alright," Mr. Garner said boisterously, "Now then, I graded your poems and I was very surprised at some of the things I read. The topic was about something life-changing that happened to you and I got everything from deaths to makeup to boys to cars to chicks to having sex to smoking weed to some music group called The Vaginas. Now then, I don't know if you guys think this is some kind of joke or what but I can assure you, poetry is no laughing matter. Poetry is about feeling and life and emotion. Not about weed and sex and…well inappropriately titled bands. If you guys don't get that through your heads, I am going to be forced to talk to the councilor and see if we can change this class to an actual graded class…"

"But Mr. Garner, it's the poetry club. It can't be a class," one redheaded boy in the back blurted out.

"Mr. Wesley, next time I want your opinion, I'll ask you for it. Got it? Now then, I expect better from you than what I got. If this was an actual graded class, most of you would be failing right now. I know it's your senior year but you need to start taking things seriously. These poems are a disgrace! An outrage that I will not stand for! Does everyone understand?"

"Yes sir," the class mumbled.

"Now, come get your poems when I call your name. Jessica Smith…Harry Wesley…Edward Black…Michelle Davis…Ty Peters…Angela Watson…Amanda Lois…Mia Venturi…and Jacob Alexander."

I rose from my chair trying to ignore the presence behind me. Jacob Alexander was not exactly the type of person I associated with. Not that I really assoiciated with anyone but that's beside the point. Jacob Alexander had gone to Clinton since freshman year before mysteriously disappearing for a few years. Now, senior year, he was back ready to spring terror into the hearts of all the other students. I am not one to listen to rumors but there's things you hear in the halls, things surrounding his name like how he once ate a kitten on a dare and how he has a collection of human blood hidden in his closet and how his father was some axe murder in England. The rumors were never-ceasing. There was even one about how he was in jail for the past years because he kidnapped some kid and held him in the basement of his place with no food or water for a month. They were all pretty ridiculous but they make one think – what caused these kinds of rumors to come about? They'd have to start somewhere. Anyway, even if I was a social butterfly, I would definitely steer clear of Jacob Alexander.

"Ms. Venturi," Mr. Garner cleared his throat as he handed me my paper. I was shocked to see all the red scribbled across it. My mouth gaped open and I clutched the paper so tightly my knuckles were beginning to pale.

"Are…are you sure you graded this right?" I asked.

", I am almost positive you did not just question my grading ability."

"But…but this can't be…"

"Ms. Venturi, you're a great writer, an excellent writer but sometimes your poems are just lacking."

"But there's so much emotion!"

"Emotion isn't everything, Ms. Venturi. Despite my sermons. Look, you had a good poem. It's a good start. It just isn't what I know it can be."

"So are you saying you think I can…do better?"

"No," Mr. Garner sighed, "I'm saying I _know_ you can do better."

"I guess we all can't be the perfectionist," I turned to see Jacob Alexander sneering at me. I rolled my eyes and tried not to pay too much attention to him. Not that it was an easy task of course. As much as Jacob Alexander was a pain, he was equally as…gorgeous. His hair was almost shoulder length and fell into his glass-blue eyes. Freckles dotted his nose and cheeks giving him almost a babyish appearance, despite his harsh demeanor.

"Drop dead," I hissed under my breath before returning to my seat.

That was the first time I really spoke to Jacob. The next, I wouldn't be quite so charming.

The rest of the day was pretty mundane. Lunch was, of course, a bore. I sat quietly at my table full of other social defects and nibbled my vegan ham-flavored tofu and rice cheese sandwich. After lunch, the rest of the day remained uneventful. The only time things actually got as exciting as they could possibly get in my life was when I got home.

My brother Parker was already there. He only has a half day due to his "taking a year off" and working as an attendant in the office (my dad's idea, not his. The job part, not the year off.) My dad wasn't hope yet from his job and it was nice having time to fix a cup of hot tea and relax before being beleaguered with questions about my day.

"Hey!" Parker called from the kitchen. I dumped my backpack onto the floor and followed his voice, "How was school."

"Don't start," I warned as I got down my huge mug Mom bought for me once and began to fill it with water.

"You really should try…"

"If you say the words to be more social I swear, Parker, you won't live to see tomorrow."

"Okay, jeeze! Chill out."

"Mr. Garner didn't like my poem," I grumbled as I tossed in my Celestial Seasons' Honey, Vanilla, Chamomile teabag, "He said I could do better."

"Don't you think that's a complement?" Parker asked, "I mean, he knows your capability."

"It was a good poem," I hissed as I slammed the microwave door shut.

"Good isn't great ya know."

"Yeah," I sighed, "I know."

"Dad's gonna be a little late. He's picking us up some dinner. Don't worry, I went to the store and bought more of your TruGreen protein mix."

"Thanks," I grumbled.

"Sure thing. "

After the microwave dinged, I pulled out my mug and slumped down at the bar and began to sip the steaming relaxer. The taste was familiar and kind and a warmth both figuratively and literally. I began to breeze through the stack of mail that Parker had gotten when he came home. Bills, bills, a letter addressed to Dad from Corporate, and a Smithsonian magazine. That was mine. I flipped through the glossy pages looking at the paintings and sculptures both old and new. I sighed as I imagined Chagall's art teacher yelling at him and telling him his painting could be better.

"Kids! I'm home!"

I shut the magazine and hurried to the door to greet Dad, one of the few persons I could actually socialize with. He put down his briefcase and hung his coat on the hook before grabbing me and pulling me into a hug.

"Mia," he kissed the top of my head, "How was school today?"

"Fine," I answered my usual response.

"Good. Did you get your poem back?"

"Yeah. It was fine."

"Good, good. Well, I was supposed to stay late and finished up a report but Samson let me go early. He said I had worked hard enough and didn't want to overwork his best employee so I stopped and picked up some dinner. I got barbeque…"

"It's alright. Parker picked me up some of my protein mix."

"Good."

"You got a letter in the mail. From Corporate."

"Oh," Dad's face looked blank before he excused himself, took the letter from the bar, and headed into his office/media room. I wasn't sure which use it was currently serving but I was pretty sure from his mood that he was reading his letter and not watching the big hockey game that was currently on.

I grabbed my mug and retreated to my room. Something inside me told me that things were going to be different from now on rather I liked it or not.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: I threw in something special for Living By Will as a thanks for being especially supportive of all my works. Thank you and stay golden!**

**Chapter Three**

The second time I spoke to Jacob Alexander was at lunch the next day. I must say, my encounter with him was not as pleasant as it was the day before. I had just found out that Corporate wanted Dad to go to New York and deliver a presentation asking Cade and Curtis Advertizing to accept some new product from my dad's company. He'd be gone for a week and I was not at all pleased by that. He being gone meant that Parker would be in charge. He might as well drop me off in the monkey cage at the zoo. Lord knows the baboons would show more parental responsibility than Parker. As you can tell, by the time I got to school the next day, I was already in a bad mood. It just so happened that first period made everything five hundred times worse.

Mr. Garner was in the process of delivering yet another diatribe about how we don't appreciate poetry enough and assigned us the ridiculous assignment of forcing us into pairs and making us research and deliver a presentation about how the poet we are assigned uses aspects of his life in his poetry. The whole idea would have been interesting and possibly an easy A for me. In fact, I would have most likely enjoyed doing the research and making posters and delivering a presentation if it weren't for the fact that my chosen partner just had to be Jacob Alexander.

Yes, that's right, you heard correctly. Jacob Alexander was assigned to be my partner and William Shakespeare was assigned to be our poet. The William part I didn't mind. It was the Jacob aspect of it all that made me vomit a bit in my mouth.

"Mr. Garner…" I objected.

"Ms. Venturi, I know you are not about to argue with me over this."

"It's just that I would work better alone than…"

"Ms. Venturi, you are a senior in high school. This is your last semester. In a few short months you will be off to the wondrous world of college and I have yet to see you socialize with a single person at this school."

"I-I socialize with Hillary Blane," I interjected.

"You need to broaden your horizons, Ms. Venturi."

"But…"

"You're working with Mr. Alexander and that is final!"

I sighed and slumped down in my chair. I noticed Jacob was staring at me with a smirk playing at his lips. Terrific! I grabbed my pen, my notebook, and made my way over to his desk. I pulled a chair up and sat down across from him. Jacob cocked an eyebrow and stared at me suspiciously.

"I'm Mia," I tried my best to be civil.

"I know."

Wow, if we kept this up, I might not have to socialize with him too much after all.

"Alright, so Shakespeare, huh? Good thing I know a lot about him. If you want, I can just get this done tonight and you might not even have to do anything."

"Why don't you want me doing anything?"

"What?"

"Why don't you want me to help?" He asked and I almost caught myself feeling bad for what I had just said. I didn't know a thing about Jacob Alexander except for the rumors I had heard regarding him. I couldn't possibly judge him based solely upon hearsay.

"It's not that…" I tried to backpedal, "It's just…I didn't think you would really want to work on this. I mean, no offense but poetry doesn't seem like your type of…"

"If the dull substance of my flesh were thought, Injurious distance should not stop my way; For then despite of space I would be brought, From limits far remote where thou dost stay…"

"Sonnet forty-one?"

"Forty-four. I may prove to know more than you think, _sweet heart_," Jacob leered and for a moment I contemplated slugging him but then of course that would anger Mr. Garner and I didn't want to push him today. I did not need a replay of last week when I got sent to the office because I called his taste for poetry extremely drab and his taste buds for Petrarch dead. Anyway, he was far from pleased by my interjection. I decided to clench my fist, bite my tongue, and try my best to be as close to socially acceptable as I could.

"Hmph," I mumbled as I yanked the cap from my pen, "Alright, so let's start off with the basics. Shakespeare was born on April 23, 1564…" I began to scribble upon the paper.

"But he was baptized just three days later. The date of April 23 is speculation while the christening date is factual."

"Alright," I sighed and wrote that off to the side, "How is it that you know so much about Shakespeare?" I asked bluntly.

"Surprised that a guy like me can like a guy like him?"

"I-I didn't mean that per say…"

"Uh-huh," he nodded, unbelievingly, "Sure. Look, Mia…right? You have to learn you can't believe everything people say."

"I'll try to remember that," I nodded.

"Good. By the way, you misspelled Stratford."

"Shut up," I grumbled.

Now, something you probably can conclude about me is the fact that I am an avid perfectionist. There is no way I would ever misspell something, much less something as simple as Stratford. I angrily crossed the misspelled word out with my pen before heatedly rewriting it.

"Do you want my advice?"

"_Excuse me_?" I asked, now it being my turn to quirk a questioning eyebrow.

"Do you want my advice – yes or no?"

"Do I have much of a choice here? Or are you just going to tell me rather I want to hear it or not?"

"My advice to you is this: try loosening up and try not to be such a…"

"_Don't_ finish that sentence."

"You don't even know what I was going to say."

"I can guess."

I was fortunate enough to have the bell ring at that exact moment. Quickly, I grabbed my things and hurried out of the classroom and away from Jacob Alexander. I no longer needed rumors to tell me about him. I already knew he was not my cup of tea. I just wanted to stay away from him and that contagious smile that I fought not to try and let contaminate me. However, I, of course, could not be so lucky.

At lunch, I had another run-in with him. And if you're wondering, yes this time it involved the pudding. I was sitting at the table talking to Hillary about how infuriating my poetry partner was and she was nodding, listening intently like a good friend should. I was about to commend her for her actions before she went and said…

"You know what I think, Mia?"

"Hmm?"

"I think you have a little crush on this new partner of yours."

"Crush?" My eyes widened so wide I thought they would burst, "_Crush_? Hillary, are you feeling okay? Are you sure you weren't…dropped on the head or something of equal or greater indisposition?"

"I'm sure, Mia," Hillary laughed, "I mean, you've been talking about him since lunch started."

"I have not!"

"Yeah, actually. You have."

"Hillary, I do not now nor ever will I like Jacob Alexander. In fact, if I never saw him again…"

"You don't like me, huh?" I turned around to see Jacob Alexander grinning that stupid contagious grin. His perfectly white teeth were taunting and I felt my cheeks flush.

"What do you want?" I sighed, apathetically.

"I just wanted to say hi."

"Well please don't."

"She really doesn't like me much, does she?" He asked Hillary who responded with a smug smile and a shrug. I wanted to punch both of them. I bit my lip and glowered at the unwelcomed presence looming above our table.

"No, I don't," I answered for her.

"And why is that?"

"Because you're just so…_infuriating_!"

"Uh-huh," Jacob smirked, "Sure."

"You are! I can't stand you!"

"Then why were you talking about me all during lunch?" He asked, quirking an eyebrow again.

"I wasn't…wait! Why were you listening in on our conversation anyways?"

"I can't help what I hear."

"You are so…_vile_!"

"Thank you. But somehow I don't believe that's how you truly feel."

"Oh really?"

"I think you're just pretending to hate me trying to make me leave you alone. But I'll have you know, _sweet heart_, you're plan isn't working."

"Don't _ever_ call me sweet heart again, okay _darling_?" I spit out "darling" as if it were an acerbic taste in my mouth.

"Alright, _sweet heart_."

"Alright. You think I don't really hate you?"

"Yup."

"I'll prove it to you."

"Alright."

It was at that moment that I grabbed Hillary's pudding cup, stood up on my chair, and dumped it on his brown curls. For a moment, his face was blank before his mouth opened wide, not quite believing what I had just done."

"You didn't!" He gasped.

"I did," I smirked before turning back to Hillary who's mouth was shaped into a perfect "o" and who was trying not to laugh.

"I can't believe you just did that!" She giggled once Jacob had left.

"Yeah well, I told you he was infuriating."


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

When I got home from school, Dad's bags were all packed and waiting at the bottom of the stairs. I had almost forgotten that today he would be leaving and I would be stuck at home with Parker the Au Pair. Terrific. I dumped my backpack onto the floor and made my way towards the kitchen. There wasn't much in the way of food in the refrigerator but I was able to scavenge around the pantry and find a granola bar. Parker sauntered into the kitchen and over to the refrigerator.

"I'm ordering pizza for dinner. You want veggie?"

"Mmhmm," I nodded, my mouth full of blueberry granola.

"So, how was school?"

I held up a finger until I swallowed and answered, "Fine."

"Come on, Mia. You always say your day was fine. Didn't anything interesting happen?"

"Why do you suddenly care?"

"I don't, I just don't want a social defect as a sister. So tell me, what happened today."

"I dumped pudding on Jacob Alexander's head today at lunch."

Parker stood there for a moment with his mouth gaping as if he wasn't quite sure to yell at me or laugh. Finally a smile outlined his face and he nodded, trying to comprehend what I had just said.

"_You_ dumped _pudding _on _Jacob Alexander's_ head?"

"Yeah. He was bugging me."

"Kid, Jacob isn't a good guy. Have you heard the things people say about him?"

"Yeah but you can't judge someone based on hearsay."

"Just stay away from him, understand."

"But we're poetry partners. We have to do an assignment on Shakespeare."

Parker didn't say anything but I could just barely hear him swear under his breath.

"Parker, I promise I'll just see him to work on the project and after that I will never even speak a word to him."

"Alright," Parker sighed, "Sure."

"Where's Dad?"

"He'll be here in a bit. He packed everything last night and his flight doesn't leave until six. He said he'll come by and get his bags and tell us goodbye. Can you believe he might get Cade and Curtis to pitch the new Areo Hockey Gear?"

"Yeah. I hope they go for it."

"Don't worry, kid, Dad'll be back in a few days."

"I know."

I grabbed a bottle of water and trudged upstairs. It wasn't Dad's leaving that really upset me it was the fact that Parker, carefree Parker who never judged was now basing his opinion of Jacob Alexander based only on rumors. He didn't know if they were true or not. Heck, Jacob could be one of the nicest guys on earth and Parker, along with half the school, would never know that or at least never believe it. Wait…was I defending him? I flopped down on my beanbag chair and massaged my temples. Had I really just defended the same person who, moment prior, I had dumped chocolate pudding on his head? Why would I possibly be defending that vile, horrid, repulsively repugnant, wretched cockroach. Just as my mind was hatefully musing, the telephone rang.

I launched myself from the beanbag and scurried over to answer it. I grabbed the bright red phone off my desk and punched the little talk button. Normally, I wouldn't answer the phone but the only other person in the house was Parker and I knew he sure wouldn't answer it. This would all be part of his plan to get me to be more social.

"Hello?"

"Mia?"

"Who is this?" I demanded.

"Just your most_ favorite_ person in the whole-wide world!"

Oh God.

"What do you want? Seriously, I thought you might actually get the message after the whole pudding incident."

"Nothing can keep me away from you, baby," the sarcasm in his voice was richly thick and syrupy. I wanted to gag.

"Drop dead."

"Look, tomorrow I'm not going to be in school…"

"So now you're skipping. What, did you want one more crime to add to your record?"

"I'm not skipping, _Mia_. I just have…stuff to do. Anyways, I was wondering if you wanted to get together tomorrow afternoon and finish up our Shakespeare project. What do you say?"

"You just don't get the message, do you?"

"It's for a grade, Mia. After we finish our presentation and get our A, we can go back to not ever associating with each other ever again."

"Sounds good to me."

"Me too."

"So, what time are you coming over?"

"I was thinking maybe you could come over to my place."

Oh wow, now that was kind of disturbing. I was trying to block out the rumors of him kidnapping and keeping kids in his basement for months at a time. That was just a rumor. There was no real logical proof that should lead me to be afraid of him. There was just no logical standpoint…

"Um…sure," I ventured. Maybe I should take the bait. Maybe I should just go over to his house and dispel all rumors that were surrounding his name.

"Great. Uh…I'll be in the parking lot after school tomorrow. Come find me."

"Okay. I-I will."

There was a pause and for a moment a thought flickered through my mind that he had hung up. For some reason, the thought was concerning. I tried to shake the feeling from my mind and decided to break the silence.

"So…were you able to get the – uh – pudding all out of your hair?" I nibbled on my lip nervously as I waited for a response. I hoped he wasn't angry at me. Not that I quite understood my sudden obsession with his thoughts and opinions about me.

"Ha, yeah it took about two things of my mom's shampoo but I think I got all of it. Though, it still smells of chocolate. It could be worse though. You could have kicked me in the balls like you did to Ty Peters a few years ago."

"Oh God," I put a hand to my temple, "You saw that?"

"How could I not? I thought you had done him some serious damage there."

"Yeah well, he totally deserved it."

"Possibly."

"Just be lucky that with you, it was just pudding."

"True."

Just then, the garage door grumbled open. Dad was home.

"Look, Jacob, I have to go but I'll see you tomorrow, right?"

"Right. Bring that Shakespeare book you're always carrying around."

"Alright. Do you want me to bring a poster and some markers over for the presentation?"

"Uh, sure."

"Great. Um, see you then."

"See you then. Oh…Mia, if it's anything to you, my mom just asked me why my hair smells like chocolate."

I couldn't help it. I mean, honestly, would you have been able to hold in laughter at that moment? I practically doubled over and I could hear him chuckling on the phone. Once we had both calmed down, I excused myself and turned off the phone. After hanging the phone back on its caddy, I tried to comprehend what had been so funny but couldn't. I shook my head and tried to ignore all thoughts about Jacob Alexander.

"Mia? Parker? You guys home?"

I hurried downstairs and into Dad's arms. He looked exhausted and I instantly felt sorry for him having to go on this week-long trip when he was so tired. He had been up forever when his company was working on the new hockey equipment and now he would have to stay up late again to plan this proposal. He at least had three days before the meeting and was supposed to meet up with someone in New York to go over numbers and projection rates. I was never one with the business world but I did understand that he would be gone for a week to pitch this sale and I would be stuck at home with Parker. At least I could escape a little bit and break free of this prison to go and work on Shakespeare with Jacob Alex…no! I would not even think about Jac…him! Hillary had said I had a crush on him because I had talked about him too much. I'd just have to prove her – and myself – wrong by not mentioning his name or thinking about him until we were forced to work together on our project. Brilliant plan, right?

"Hey kiddo."

"Hey, Dad. Are you all ready for your big trip?"

"As ready as I can be. Promise me you kids will be good while you're gone. No big parties or anything. Understand?"

"Dad…"

"You never know. One moment you can be throwing a huge party and the next you can be locked in the bathroom with your sister and have a shampoo fight while…"

"Dad?" I scrunched up my eyebrows and cocked my head to the side. What the heck was he babbling about?

"It could happen!"

"I'm sure."

"It could. Anyways, be good for me. And try not to get into too much trouble while I'm gone, Mia. No kicking anyone in their…well private area and no throwing your backpack at anyone and no…"

"Dad, both of those were excusable."

"How so?"

"Ty Peters tried to feel me up in the lunch line so I had to kick him and then he tried to apologize and that's when I hurled the backpack at his head."

"Mia," Dad sighed, not at all pleased, "Why can't you just be…"

"Be what, Dad?" I demanded, "_Normal_?"

"Well, yes."

"Dad, normalcy is nothing but a mediocre excuse to be a carbon-copy of ever other teenager in the world and how can one even begin to define normalcy? Is it normal for a teenage girl to get highlights and manicures and have sex on the first date and say things like 'IDK!' I mean, how can we even _begin_ to define what normal is?"

"I'm sorry I asked," Dad stared at me blankly. He hated it when I went on rants which I tended to do every five minutes or so, "Amelia, try not to be so uptight about little things. I just want to see you socialize more. Hillary's a nice girl but you need to get out there and make more friends and…"

"Just so you know, Dad, I have a date tomorrow!"

Now I had no idea where that came from! All I know was it blurted right out of me before I could stop it. I could feel my cheeks blushing bright red.

"A…date?"

"Yes. With a boy in the poetry club."

"Oh."

"Yes and we're going to his place tomorrow to work on our project together."

"Well…I hope you have a nice…nice time."

"We will. He's a real…_sweet heart_!" I grinned, using the nickname Jacob - _he_ - had called me at lunch. The thought made me nauseous.

"Hiya, pops!" Parker sauntered into the living room, "So, you ready to go to the Big Apple?"

"Yeah. Let me just load up my bags."

After the bags were all placed in the trunk of the car, we each hugged Dad goodbye. He had gone on business trips before but never for a whole week and never leaving me alone with Parker.

"Have fun on your date, kiddo," Dad smiled as he gave me a final hug.

"Date?" Parker looked confused, "What date?"

"Nothing for you to worry about," I smiled and patted his shoulder, rebounding when he tried to slap my hand away.

"Be good, kids. I'll call once I get to the hotel."

"Bye, Dad!"

He hopped into the car and backed out of the driveway.

"So, a date huh?"

"Like I said, Park, it's nothing for you to concern yourself with."

"Is he a nice guy?"

"He's…sweet. As sweet as…_chocolate_," I smiled wickedly before scurrying into the house leaving Parker behind confused and puzzled. But then again, what else is new?


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

For some unexplainable reason, I was actually excited about going to school the next day. Usually, it takes me a good fifteen minutes to get out of bed while today, it might have taken me less than fifteen seconds. Parker was even in a good mood considering when I came down for breakfast, I wasn't ranting about the "hierarchical system that dictates the values of our education." Yes, that was actually a direct quote from yours truly. As a matter of fact, I was actually looking forward to going to school.

When I arrived in Parker's pick-up (I had asked him to take me so that way Jacob – he – could just drop me off after we finished at his house) the feeling of ecstatic excitement still followed me. It was like a shadow I couldn't shake, not that I really wanted to lose the feeling. It was rare that I felt like this and it was actually quite nice. The first person I found to relay my excitement to was Hillary. She was at her locker stuffing books in it and looking like her usual dreary self. Her eyes were glazed over and for a moment I was worried her parents were fighting again; but then she smiled at me and all worries were erased.

"Have you seen your lover-boy yet this morning?" She asked, eyes glowing. Yep, there was nothing to worry be concerned about with her except for maybe the possibility of sudden and unexpected brain damage. I decided to go for the sarcastic approach towards the situation instead of the usual, expected approach of blatant denial.

"Hillary, I haven't the slightest idea of to whom you are referring. "

"Sure, sure."

"I honestly do not."

"Yeah, well don't look now. Here he comes!"

My head whipped around faster than a racecar around the track. I don't know what made me do that, I just…did. Jacob Alexander was currently ambling down the hallway in his usual pompous step. I realized that something was different about him. He was no longer wearing just a tight, black t-shirt and jeans but was wearing a blue button-down shirt over it. He looked rather…decent for a criminal. Wait, I stopped myself, you don't know that. I tried to shake the thoughts of the rumors from my head and turned back to Hillary.

"_Please_ tell me he isn't coming over here."

"He is," she nodded.

"Make him…go away!"

"I can't do that," Hillary smirked.

"And why not?"

"Because," she pursed her lips, "That's rude."

I groaned and started contemplating why I was still friends with Hillary when…

"Hey there, _sweet heart_."

"What have I told you about calling me that?" I snapped.

"I don't really remember," Jacob smirked.

"I thought you weren't going to be here," I answered coolly.

"I changed my mind," he answered with the same, smug tone.

"Well isn't that splendid."

"Yes," he nodded, "So, you still coming over today?"

Oh crud. He just had to say that with Hillary standing right there. Her eyes were so wide I thought they would explode right out of their sockets. I hadn't planned on brining up going to Jacob's house after school to Hillary. In fact, I wasn't going to let her know at all. Why should she? I mean, it wasn't like a date or anything. We were just going to get together to work on Shakespeare. It wasn't like it was a big deal. Right?

"Uh…sure," I nodded, "Yeah. That'll be good."

"Great. See ya in poetry, sweet heart."

I opened my mouth to say something but didn't get the chance. Jacob Alexander was already promenading down the hall and out of sight. For a brief moment, I hoped that Hillary hadn't heard that last part. Of course, my hopes failed me.

"You…and…and Jacob are…getting together? At…at his place?" Hillary blubbered and I began to concern myself with her motor skills.

"You really shouldn't stutter like that."

"But…you…and…and Jacob Alexander!"

"We are just getting together to work on our poetry club project. It's due tomorrow and this is the only way we can work on it together. After we finish our project, we won't be socializing with each other anymore. In fact, I doubt will ever even share a single word after this ordeal."

"Uh-huh," Hillary nodded, unbelievingly.

"Come on, Hillary. I mean, he is completely not my type."

"You have a type?"

"Yes."

"What's your type? An old, dead poet or artist?"

"Despite my passions for Van Gogh and Shakespeare and Chagall, I do actually have a type. Artsy and passionate and deep and kind and…"

"You don't have to defend yourself, Mia," Hillary smiled at me, "I know you have a type. And I also know there's a guy who is exactly everything you mentioned and you aren't even giving him the time of day."

"Please? Jacob Alexander? My type? Think again."

"Whatever you say," Hillary rolled her eyes, "I got to get to Spanish. Talk to you at lunch."

I sighed as I began to plug in my locker combination. How dare Hillary say something like that? Of course I had a type and of course Jacob Alexander was far from it. She didn't know what she was talking about. I made a mental note to take her to a neurologist for a brain scan. A tumor or a concousion were the only ways to describe her incompetence is my relationship with Jacob. Wait…relationship? Scratch that. There is no relationship between Jacob Alexander and myself. Nope, nada, none, zip, zero. No relationship.

The rest of the day went by lazily. Mr. Garner was sick with a stomach flu and our assignment had been pushed ahead two class periods just to be safe. Instead of Mr. Garner, we were unfortunate enough to have Ms. Lang as our sub. This woman must have been in her late sixties and she looked very unhappy about having to sub teach as we were about having her sub teach. She walked in with her arms folded across her chest and her lips pursed. The first thing she told us was that she didn't tolerate monkey business like Mr. Garner does (not that any of us had seen him tolerate it) and that we would spend the next forty-five minutes in a study hall and that there would be absolutely no talking allowed – for which I was thankful. That way, I wouldn't have to be forced to mingle with Jacob Alexander. Not yet anyways. So I passed the time casually reading one of my books. Despite my attempts to focus on the words printed on the page, my mind kept wandering.

What if what Hillary had said was true? What if Jacob Alexander was my type and I was letting my own personal biases stand in the way of what could possibly be a beautiful and strong friendship. Maybe even more. What if I had it all wrong? What if he was no more a criminal than me? What if behind the callous exterior there was a softer, gentler, Jacob Alexander. Just then, I heard a loud crash and Jacob smiling sheepishly at Ms. Lang.

"Mr…"

"Alexander. Jacob Alexander."

The James Bond attempt was pitiful at least.

"Well Mr. Alexander you just got yourself sent to the office."

"Aw…really?" The sarcasm in his voice was heavy and I tried to bite my lip and not retaliate.

"Yes. Go!"

"Alright," he smirked, picked the books up off the floor that he had thrown down, and sauntered out of the room but not before flashing me a smile and a wink. Ugh, the boy was absolutely and positively infuriating. I don't know which angered me more – he fact that he purposefully feigned an accident so that he could get out of class or the fact that if I had pulled one such stunt (assuming that I would have enough gumption to try) would get me into a whole heap of trouble that I would actually be concerned about. Jacob didn't seem to care one way or the other if he got sent to the office or was presented with three weeks of afterschool detention. He just didn't care. It made me wonder if he cared about anything.

"Ms. Lang," I raised my hand once the door had shut behind him.

"Yes?"

"May I please go to the restroom?"

"I suppose," Ms. Lang sighed. I could tell she was afraid that if she had said no, I would have dumped all of my things on the floor too.

"Thank you," I grabbed my bag and hurried out of the classroom. Just as I had figured, Jacob was leaning against one of the lockers kitty-corner to the classroom. He had a smirk upon his face and his eyes were twilinking.

"Skipping, are we?"

"No. I'm going to the restroom. Aren't you supposed to be in the office or something?"

"All I was told was that I had to leave the class. She didn't say anything about the office."

"And you wonder why I hate you like I do."

"You don't hate me."

"Is that so?" I asked as I began to make my way down the hall.

"Yeah. I told you, this whole twenty-four-seven PMS thing that you're pushing is nothing but an act," Jacob grinned as he began to fall into step with me.

"Drop dead."

"You say that to me a lot."

"Really? And all this time I thought I was begging you to take me into your arms and make passionate love to me."

"Ha, funny."

"I thought so."

We walked a little further until we found ourselves standing outside the girl's restroom.

"This is my stop," I answered, tilting my head toward the door.

"Alright. Meet you in the parking lot after school."

"Alright," I was about to pull the door open when he stopped me.

"Just so you know, Mia, I can see right through you. You aren't quite as transparent as you think."


	6. Chapter 6

_**IMPORTANT: Okay so to understand the talk between Rachel and Mia – American Girl dolls are beautiful dolls from each time period in American history. Felicity is from Colonial times, Kirsten is from the immigrations, Kit is from the depression, Molly is from WWII, and Samantha is Victorian. Each doll has their own books – about six in a series – full of adventures pertaining to the issues of that time period and their own period clothing and accessories. They are beautiful. Anyways, for the sake of copyright formalities, I do not own American Girl except for my Samantha and Kit dolls and the collection of every girl's books.**_

Chapter Six

By the end of the day (after stewing over Jacob Alexander's comment about me not being as transparent as I thought) I was in no mood to spend the rest of my afternoon at his house working on a poetry project. In fact, I would have much rather plunged a dagger in my stomach than face him. What had he meant by that comment anyways, I wondered as I walked across the parking lot. He doesn't even know a single thing about me? Who does he think he is anyway? Then I saw him leaning against a black Mustang convertible. It looked old. Probably a 1965 or '67 but I was no good with cars.

"Hey," he nodded toward me."

"Hi," I tried to be as civil as I could be, "Ready to get this over with."

"Sure," Jacob shrugged, walked over to the passenger side of the car, and opened up the door for me. I was shocked. It was a kind gesture, a very chivalrous act but I let my personality get the better of me.

"You know, Jacob, just because I am of the feminine sex, that does not mean that I am somehow incapable of opening a door by myself. I know, I am at several dangers such as breaking a nail or scuffing up a manicure but I think those will just have to be dangers I'll have to live with in opening my own car door."

"Whatever you say, sweet heart."

I opened my mouth to protest but snapped it shut. He wasn't worth it. Besides, he had already heard that diatribe a million times since yesterday. He knew how I felt about being called "sweet heart" and it was no good. He would still keep doing it in spite of my numerous protests.

"So, how far do you live?" I asked.

"Not far. I should warn you though, my little sister got a half day today at her school. Something about teacher meetings. Anyways, she'll be home when we're there."

"Is that a problem?" I asked, never imagining Jacob as a big-brother type.

"No, not for me but maybe for you. She is…blunt."

"So am I."

"True," Jacob nodded, "So are you."

The rest of the ride was quiet until Jacob pushed a button on the dash board radio and the raspy, beautiful voice of my favorite band, Within Temptation filled echoed throughout the car. I reached for the volume and turned it up.

"I can't believe you like Within Temptation!" I exclaimed.

"Yeah. You like them too?"

"Yeah. My favorite song is 'Our Solemn Hour.' It's just so beautiful."

He smiled at me and also turned up the volume. Soon, we found ourselves belting out the lyrics to "What Have You Done Now." As soon as the song ended, we were laughing our heads off. It was quite nice laughing. I hadn't laughed so hard in a long time. I smiled at him as he turned the car onto a street filled with run-down looking houses. A few houses down, he pulled into a driveway of a house with several flower beds scattered around and green shutters.

"Home sweet home," Jacob smirked as he put the car in park.

"I like the flowers," I said and I did. It was a nice little touch to the peeling paint and cracked sidewalks and lopsided mailboxes. It looked as if whoever had planted them was trying to bring as much cheery to this desolate place as possible.

"My mom loves to garden," Jacob answered, "Come on, let's go in."

I grabbed my backpack from the backseat and followed him through the garage. He yanked open the back door and lead me into an entry way decorated with a nice flowered rug and pictures of him and a little girl I supposed was his sister. The house was nice and I realized that the exterior had been very misleading. Inside, there was a warm coziness that was not familiar to me. It felt like Cleaver house. I half expected a woman to appear in a poofy skirt and a tray of cookies asking Jacob if he had a great day at school and Jacob to reply, "Yeah, Mother, it was swell!"

"Come on," Jacob then led me further into the house and over towards a dining room. He flung his backpack on top of the table, "Do you want something to eat or drink before we get started?"

"A water would be nice," I answered.

He excused himself towards the kitchen and I took a seat next to where he had flung his backpack. I pulled my book on Shakespeare out of my backpack and began to flip through the pages. I had marked some of them with sticky-notes and had already highlighted important parts. As I waited for Jacob to return, a little girl skipped up to me. She had brown curly hair and big brown eyes like her brother's and the same freckles dotted her nose.

"Hello!" She smiled up at me.

"Hi," I returned her smile.

"I'm Rachael. What's your name?"

"Amelia but everyone calls me Mia."

"Mia. I like that name. It's pretty. How old are you?"

"Eighteen," I answered.

"Wow. That's how old my brother Jacob is! Do you know Jake? Are you his friend?"

"Yes," I nodded not really knowing what else to say. I had never really thought of myself of Jacob Alexander's friend but sure, why not?

"Good. Jake needs a nice friend like you. You are nice, right?"

"I try to be."

"I think you're nice and you're pretty."

"Thank you," I laughed. Rachel was blunt. I had a feeling we would get along great. I was about to say something else but Jacob appeared with two glasses of water. He smiled when he saw Rachel.

"Rae, you aren't bothering Mia now, are you?"

"Oh no!" I laughed, "We were just having a nice little talk."

"Jake, I like Mia. She's nice and pretty and smart. I think she should be your girlfriend."

"Really now?" Jacob asked, scooping up the little girl in his arms.

"Really!"

"Well why don't you go to your room and play with some of your dolls. Mia and I have lots of homework to get done today. After we finish, I bet Mia would like it if you take her and show her some of your dolls."

"Really, Mia?" Rachel asked.

"I love dolls," I smiled, "I used to have tons of them when I was your age."

"Jake, if you do decide to make Mia your girlfriend, I approve!" And with that, the little girl skipped away. I couldn't help but laugh once she was out of earshot.

"She's a sweetie."

"Sometimes. Other times, not so much."

"Thank you for the water," I said as I took a bottle from him, "I brought a poster and some markers. I also brought the book you mentioned. I have pages marked and everything. I don't think it will take us long at all."

"Hey, you don't mind looking at Rae's dolls, do you?" Jacob asked nervously as if he had just committed some sort of faux pau.

"No, of course not."

"Good. She has the biggest collection of dolls I've ever seen and she loves showing them off."

"I don't mind at all."

"Good. And sorry about that…uh…girlfriend comment…" Jacob said as he put his hand awkwardly behind his neck. His cheeks were turning red it was one of the cutest sights I could have ever imagined.

"Don't be," I answered gently, "I thought it was cute."

"Really?"

"Yeah. So, ready to get started?"

"Sure."

We began to decorate the poster with dates and pictures of Shakespeare as well as quotes from his famous sonnets. After the poster was done, we started our paper that would be read aloud in front of the class.

"What got you started on Shakespeare?" Jacob asked as I was finishing up our closing paragraph.

"My mom liked him," I answered flatly. I had never mentioned my mom before to anyone; not even Hillary. She of course knew about my mom's death but she knew better to bring it up. Heck, I didn't even talk to Dad and Parker about her.

"Oh," Jacob nodded.

"Yup. My book of sonnets that I have was hers. She gave it to me on my tenth birthday."

"Most ten year olds were playing with their Skipp-its and hopscotch and you were over there reading Shakespeare. So Mia!"

I opened my mouth to object and to add that he didn't know anything about me, despite whatever he thought, however, I quickly snapped it shut and smiled.

"What got you started?" I asked.

"I don't really know exactly. I mean, one day I'm sitting there and bored and my teacher hands me a book of Shakespearean sonnets and I guess I was just hooked."

"He's pretty addictive."

"Jacob? Is that you?"

"In here Mom!" Jacob called.

A woman in a pretty pale blue pants suit came in. Her long red hair was pulled back in a barrette. She had the same freckles as the kids but blue eyes. She smiled when she saw me.

"You must be Mia! Jacob told me he had invited someone over."

"It's nice to meet you Mrs…"

"Oh please!" She laughed, "Call me Crys. I can't stand formalities!"

I laughed again, "It's nice to meet you, Crys."

"You too, Mia. Now then, tell me how's the project comin'?"

"We just finished," Jacob answered.

"Oh good. I hope you two make a good grade. Jacob told me that you guys had Shakespeare. He just crazy about the guy!"

"Mo-om!" Jacob rolled his eyes.

"You are," Crys nodded knowingly.

"I'm crazy about him too," I admitted, "He's always been one of my favorite poets."

"Well then I know you two will make a good grade. Is Rachael in her room?"

"Yeah. Mia's going to go and check out some of her dolls."

"Oh, that's sweet of you, Mia," Crys patted my shoulder, "It's nice to know that Jacob has such a nice girlfriend."

"Oh…uh…" I stammered.

"Mom, Mia's just a friend."

"Oh my goodness. I am terribly sorry, Mia. I-I always do that. I just need to learn to keep my mouth shut sometimes."

"It's alright," I nodded, "I'm going to check on Rachel."

"I'll come too," Jacob smiled and we excused ourselves.

"You're mom seems nice," I said, my voice distant.

"Yes," Jacob nodded, "She is. This is Rae's room," I looked at the posters decorating the door. They were crafted out of purple and pink construction paper and full of glitter glue. Each one had her name written neatly across them.

"She's quite the little artist, isn't she," I asked.

"Oh yes. Glitter is her passion."

I laughed as he knocked on the door.

"Rae, it's Mia and Jacob. Can we come in?"

"Sure!" She called from inside as he turned the knob.

Inside, the room was, like the door, an explosive collage of pink and blue and purple and glitter and hearts and rainbows and teddy bears. I couldn't help but smile as I stepped into every little girl's fairy land.

"Mia!" Rachel cried as she hurried over to me, "Come see! Come see!" She grabbed my arm and practically dragged me over to a shelf full of dolls. I had expected Barbies and Kens but was greeted with the most intricately crafted dolls. Most of them looked antique.

"They are lovely," I ogled.

"Most of them were my great-grandmother's. She gave them to my mom who gave them to me. I don't play with them but I do take them down every once in awhile to brush their hair. Aren't they pretty!"

"They are gorgeous," I nodded.

"Thank you."

"What's that one," I pointed to a doll on the bed. It was as beautiful as the ones on the shelf but the hair was a little worn and the clothes wrinkled.

"That one is Samantha. She's an American Girl Doll. Jacob gave her to me."

"Oh!" I cried, "I have Molly! She's in a box now," I admitted, "But now I'll have to get her out again. Maybe our dolls could have a tea party."

"I'd love that!" Rachel gasped, her eyes wide.

"Can I come?" Jacob asked sheepishly.

"Oh of course you can!" Rachel added, "You can be the butler."

"Butler?" Jacob asked in mock-unappreciation.

"Of course. You'll have to dress like one though."

"Oh!" Jacob growled as he grabbed Rachel and swung her upside down sending her into fits of giggles. I couldn't help but laugh too.

"I like my tea with honey and lemon," I smirked at him.

"Excuse me?" He asked, quirking an eyebrow.

"You heard me."

"Ha, we'll just see about that."

"Do you have the Molly books?" Rachel asked, as Jacob put her down.

"Yes. I have all of hers. Do you have Samantha's?"

"No. Well, I have some of them. I'm waiting for A Surprise for Samantha, the birthday one."

"I told her if she's good, she might get it for her birthday," Jacob added. I could tell he felt a tad left out of the conversation.

"Well, Rachel, I better be heading home. Parker, my older brother will be worrying about me. I told him I'd be home before six."

"Big brothers!" Rachel rolled her eyes and Jacob stuck his tongue out at her.

"Tell me about it! But we'll have a tea party soon, I promise."

"Okay!" Rachel smiled, "Bye Mia!"

"Bye Rachel!"

Jacob led me out of the room and down the hall where we said goodbye to his mother. Crys kept trying to talk me into staying for dinner but I told me maybe some other time. Parker already didn't like me being over and Jacob's much less being over for dinner. After we got into the car, I began to tell Jacob how sweet his family was.

"Your mom and Rachel are really nice."

"Yeah, they are," he nodded, "Sorry if Rachel was a little annoying."

"Oh no," I shook my head, "She was great."

"Mia…can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"I-I need to know…are you going to really have a tea party with Rae?"

"Of course!" I answered, a little hurt by his question, "I wouldn't lie to her like that."

"Good. I-I just wanted to make sure you weren't just getting her hopes up. She's been disappointed in life a lot and I can't let that happen again. Not if I can help it anyway."

"Jacob, I promise you, I'd never hurt her."

"Thank you."

"You're a good big brother."

"I try to be. It's hard though. I just always want to watch out for her, you know? I know I can't be there all the time but I'd like to be."

"You do what you can."

"I wish I could do more."

The rest of the car ride was silent. I didn't know what to say to clear the tense atmosphere so I just kept my mouth shut. Maybe that's what Parker's problem was. Maybe he was just trying to protect me and be there for me. Maybe he was just trying to watch out for me.

"Take a left here," I quickly added, realizing that we were almost to my street.

"Alright," Jacob nodded, his face looked stoic. What was his problem now?

"This is my house," I pointed to the two-story with the huge lawn.

"You live here?" Jacob asked, sounding suddenly embarrassed.

"Yeah," I nodded, "It's smaller on the inside," I added.

"Uh-huh."

"Thanks for inviting me over, Jacob. I had a nice time."

"Glad you and Rachel and fun together."

"Me too! I'm looking forward to our tea party."

"Yeah," he nodded, "Well you better be going."

Why was I getting the feeling he was trying to get rid of me.

"Oh, yeah I don't want Parker to worry too much…"

"Wouldn't want that."

"No. Anyways, I'll talk to you at school tomorrow."

"It's unavoidable – we have a project we have to present tomorrow."

"Jacob…why are you acting so…infuriating?" I demanding, my mood no longer pleasant.

"Just…go, Amelia."

"Amelia?"

"Go!"

"Jacob…"

"Go, Amelia. Just…go."

I grabbed my backpack, shouted, "FINE!" before slamming the car door shut and storming up to the front door. I threw my backpack down as if the floor had caused me some sort of an adversity. Parker came over obviously concerned about the random thud.

"What's your problem?" He asked.

"Nothing."

"Did Jacob do something to you?"

"No."

"His family?"

"His family was great, Parker. They were perfect. It was nothing they did."

"Than what?"

"I don't know exactly."

"Talk to me," Parker commanded, folding his arms impatiently over his chest, "Tell me what's wrong."

"It's just that Jacob's being really weird. One moment he was really nice and the next…he was practically shoving me out of his car."

"The kid's a freak, Mia. Don't waste your time on him."

I looked up through my bangs at him and gave him the most harshest look I could have ever given and stormed up to my room. I just needed to get away, away from Parker and away from Jacob Alexander. Away from everything.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

The alarm clock blared at exactly six-thirty. I wanted to rip it from the socket and hurl it at the wall but I knew that would cause a ruckus that I really wasn't in the mood to deal with. Besides, I couldn't just sit in bed and hide from my problems all day. I knew better than that. I'd just have to force myself out of bed and to the purgatory of high school and do my poetry presentation with Jacob Alexander. After that, I would never have to talk to him again. Ever. It would be perfect. No more craziness, no more fighting, no more confusion. Though, I would feel bad about Rachel. She was sweet and I had promised her a tea party. Maybe I could still have the tea party but just ignore Jacob's presence. Oh yeah, that would be easy!

I rolled out of bed and walked over to my vanity. Might as well try and do something with myself. I dusted some powder on my cheeks and nose and ran some eyeliner across my eyes. Once I had deemed myself as decent, I grabbed a long-sleeved purple t-shirt and my loose jeans. I didn't know why I was concerned with how I looked. I was never concerned with things like that before. I sighed and ran a brush through my hair. Once the unruly curls were finally in their places, I hurried downstairs to grab a granola bar. Parker was already in the kitchen munching on some sucrose-infused chemically-imbalanced pieces of cardboard along with something that resembled freeze-dried marshmallows. Mmmm…

"Hey, Kid."

"Hey, Parker. Lucky Charms again? When are you finally going to start eating better?"

"Hey, the marshmallows have some fruity flavor to them. That must be some redeeming value, huh?"

I rolled my eyes and grabbed a Kashi granola bar from the pantry. I quickly explained to Parker that I had to go to school early and to hurry up and not make me late. He seemed to understand but was still a little lost about my little diatribe last night over Jacob Alexander but then again, so was I. I still was perplexed why he would suddenly chose to act that way towards me when, just minutes ago, things seemed fine. I reminded myself that today was our presentation and we'd hurry and get it over with (because of the grade) and then hurry ourselves back to our non-relationship, relationship.

Parker cooperated after brushing his teeth and drove us to school. I had the poster rolled neatly in a tight cylinder in the front seat by my feet. Interesting facts lined the poster in splashes of obnoxious color – sure to win the attentions of most of our classmates and hopefully, Mr. Garner. As we pulled up to the school, I noticed the black Mustang in the back of the parking lot. Well there goes a sudden-shot-in-the-dark hope that he might be sick thus allowing me the fortune of not having to present with him.

"Good luck on your…thing," Parker said as I swung the door open.

"Thanks," I chose against adding, "I'll need it."

As I walked into the school, I tried not to scan the hallways looking for my current annoyance in life. Instead, I kept my eyes straight forward as I headed towards my locker. It was on the second floor so I trudged over towards the stairs. On the left of the stairwell, I saw him. He was leaning against the cemented tile wall with his arms folded across his chest. I tried not to look but I couldn't help it. He lifted his eyes from the ground and stared at me – a cold hard look that could freeze stone with a single gaze. I lowered my eyes back to floor and hurriedly took the stairs two by two. Somehow, I managed not to trip. The stairs were always a bane of mine. If I even dared to take them two at a time, I always tripped myself up and managed to fall. Today, rather it was adrenaline or just pure luck, I was able to go up two at a time without a single slip up. I wanted to gloat in my new-found ability but chose to hurry to my locker and get to Mr. Garner's class early.

After plugging my combination into my locker, I began to stuff my locker full of unneeded books. My first two periods were a breeze – Poetry and Study Hall. I always had my homework already done so Study Hall was a pointless time for me. I hated that my councilor, Mrs. Billings, put me in that class. It was either that or wood shop and she concluded that, due to my prior hormonal occurrences, me being allowed anywhere near a saw and sharp metal objects surrounded by a class of boys who could possibly find themselves on my bad side was probably not the best idea in the world. So here I was, stuck in Study Hall spending my time reading and ignoring the cruel stares from my peers. Being a "nerd" (i.e: liking recreations such as reading over playing Guitar Hero and actually speaking with some form of intelligence) was not a positive strike towards me in high school. But I didn't really mind. I had Hillary and I thought I had had Jacob on my side. Oh well, one was better than none.

After finishing at my locker, I made my way to the poetry classroom. Mr. Garner wasn't there when I entered but the door was unlocked so I sat down at my usual seat and unrolled the poster. I thought it looked pretty good for an attempt between two socially defects. From my judging, I think it deserved no less that a ninety-six but that was only my opinion. The door shook open and I looked up expecting to find Mr. Garner. Instead I found the pebble in my shoe.

"Ugh," I rolled my eyes and turned my attention back to the poster.

"Look, Mia, I just want to get this over with…"

"Me too," I sigh.

After about five minutes of silence, the bell tolled and wouldn't you know, Mr. Garner called us to present first. I grabbed the poster and our paper we had written. Sighing, I flung the poster angrily into the arms of Jacob Alexander who hissed a thank you. I took my place as far as I could from Jacob and began to read our paper.

"He was famous for his heart-wrenching, bone-chilling dramas. He was known for his passionate, heated sonnets, he was William Shakespeare. What many do not know about Shakespeare was that he started not only many theatrical firsts but also common words we use today. In fact, William Shakespeare was the first to coin the word 'assassination.'"

The presentation lasted about fifteen painful minutes. Each minute dragged further and further as I focused my eyes upon the paper in front of me instead of the cantankerous annoyance only a few feet away from me. After the reading of our paper, Jacob took over. He sounded like a pro as he easily discussed important and interesting facts about William.

"Very good job," Mr. Garner clapped, "You may put your paper and the poster on that back desk."

I slipped coldly past Jacob and made my way over to my desk. I still was at a loss for his behavior. What could I have possibly done to make Jacob react in such a harsh way? I decided to not let it bother me too much. After all, now that our presentation was complete, I would never have to talk to him again. That is what we had agreed yesterday, right? Right? Then it suddenly hit me. We had made that agreement long before we had started working, long before I met his sister, long before we found ourselves actually getting along. Is that what his problem was? Did he think that I would suddenly drop him after just hours prior of being friends? Jacob probably thought I was going to uphold to the agreement and I would end up hurting him and Rachel. I sighed and crossed my arms heatedly over my chest. I should have known! Suddenly I felt terrible about what had happened. I would never hurt Jacob…unless he gave me a good reason to but I would never just brush him off like he assumed I would. I could hardly wait to talk to him and let him know I was sorry. I have never been a fan of apologies but I figured I could make an exception for Jacob Alexander.

After several more presentations (all not nearly as good as ours), the bell finally tolled. I grabbed my bag and swung it over my shoulder before following Jacob out the door. He let the door shut on me, not even bothering to hold it open for me as I was hot on his heels. I exaggeratedly sighed as I shoved the door open and tornadoed my way after him.

"Jacob!" I shouted as I he walked off, ignoring my presence, "Jacob!"

No luck. He wasn't about to turn around and I wasn't about to let him get off that easily.

"Jacob! Don't you dare walk away from me!"

That got his attention.

"What do you want, Mia?" Jacob sighed, as if in defeat.

"I want to apologize."

"This should be good."

"Jacob would you pull your head out of your own digestive organs and listen to me for once in your life?"

I didn't care if half the hall was staring as us as if I had just shouted out I was pregnant with his baby. I didn't care that his face was growing rouge and my cheeks were warming. I didn't care that I probably looked like a madwoman and I didn't care if my fists were clenched. I did care, however, that Jacob Alexander looked like a kicked puppy. It was kind of cute in an odd sort of way.

"Look," I sighed, lowering my tone, "I know what your problem is."

"You know what _my_ problem is?" Jacob scoffed.

"Yes. You thought that I would hold true to our deal, that I would continue my life was if you had never been a part of it."

"I-I thought that's what you wanted."

"My God, Jacob! Are you that dense?" I rolled my eyes, "You're an idiot you know. I would never just leave you like that. I mean, I don't do that to friends."

"Friends?" Jacob's eyes widened.

"Yes," I nodded, "Friends."

"I guess…I might be able to accept your apology."

"Good. Tell me one thing, Jacob."

"Sure."

"Why would it be such a big deal to you if we did stop being friends?"

"Why do _you_?" He dared.


End file.
